Mental
by QueensOfFluff
Summary: Dan has been staring at the same walls of his mental hospital for years, and has had his fair share of roommates. He has liked all of them, but is there a new spark with his new one, Phil? They will have to manage with the differences and difficulties of their mental illnesses, but can love concur all? We'll see in this shocking Phan story, with triggers and dramatic plot twists!
1. Chapter 1

My eyes flashed open and I sat up, my blood racing. The memories flashed through me, piercing my heart and skin. I clenched my hands and let out a shaky breath, trying to calm myself before one of the nurses came out here. I hated when they did that, since I knew that there was nothing wrong—I just had another nightmare. That was normal for me, the nightmare, I mean. I have been dealing with them for a while, and I am used to having them. I don't need the nurses to freak out about them and put me under or anything like that again. I just need to calm down after a couple minutes and go back to sleep.

Okay, I'll admit, I usually don't go back to sleep after these things, but I'd rather stay awake then be put under. The needles freak me out, and I always spend the rest of the day in a day-dreaming state and unable to focus. It is really infuriating.  
I know you must be thinking that I'm crazy, and you are quite correct in that assumption, because I am dealing with all of this from a mental hospital in northern England. So yes, I can identify as crazy (thus all of the nurses and stuff).

Before I elaborate on my dream (which I'm sure you're all dying to hear about), I need to explain about my wing in this mental hospital. We're in the west wing, usually called 'Section 38' for reasons I don't really know, and everyone here has some type of mental disorder paired with at least one suicide attempt. I have bipolar disorder (so if you see any of my opinions change in the course of around five minutes, fuck off and leave me alone about it), and I have a record of three attempts, only one of which I remember.

Now, here is the promised explanation on my dream. You see, from that one past attempt that I remember was born many nights of nightmares, and though they say that I had two others (neither of which I remember), that is the one that had kept me from sleep for so long.

The dream starts off completely normal. I don't even know that it is a dream until I wake up. I am walking along in my house, and everything is dull and blending with the other things around me. The only thing that I can really see and that pops out at me is the red on the carpet. Bright, bright red. I follow it, wondering what could be at the end. As I get closer the amount of red becomes larger and larger. Soon I come to a door, where the red is brightly painting the entrance. If it weren't such a serious matter than I would have smiled.

I open the door. Inside is my mother, crying. I know what happened. My father must have gotten something to drink. When she sees me she shakes her head and tells me to go to my room. Everything is fine, and when we're all at dinner things will be back together. I don't know what to do. I want to hate my father, but I also love him when he's sober. I can't handle it anymore. I run to my room. There's a bottle of pills on the headboard of my bed. My decision has been made.

Then I wake up.

* * *

"Dan are you alright?"

I roll over on the small white bed and gaze over at my roommate. She stares at me with tired eyes, the small light that's normally is perched on our bedside table is in her petite hand, trembling ever so slightly and causing shadows to dance along the walls.

"Yes, I'm fine, just another nightmare," I say, reaching for the light and returning it to it's rightful position "Go back to sleep."

"We have to get up in an hour or so, may as well stay awake," she replies, swinging her small legs onto the cold floor. "Not much point in going to sleep now."

Beatrix walks over to her set of drawers and selects and outfit for the day, then disappears into the bathroom, the lock clicking behind her.

Beatrix and I are roommates in case you're wondering, best friends (like we have a choice), or whatever. She's pretty cool for the most part, and she doesn't like talking about her apparent suicide attempt. All she would tell me about herself is her OCD and dealing with anorexia (which I kind of guessed for myself). She's got curly blonde hair and really big green and brown eyes- they kind of remind me of a frightened deer or something.

I hear water running in our shared bathroom and the obnoxious timer start. We're not allowed to be in the bathroom for long because of the whole suicide thing and how we're "still mentally unstable" so we're allowed fifteen minutes to have a shower, get dressed and get out. They don't have cameras in the bathrooms because of the whole privacy issue thing, but it's good we're trusted enough to shower on our own, just not sleep or talk with roommates for some reason.

I frown as my feet hit the cold floor and wish for carpets or something- anything to make the place feel less eerie and mental hospital like- oh wait.

I already have my selected outfit in hand as Beatrix's timer hits zero. When she doesn't come out of the bathroom for a few minutes I tap the door nervously with my index finger "Bea? Are you still in there?" I can practicably hear the camera sitting int he top corner of our room daring me to open the door. "Beatrix, please don't make me come in there."

Ugh, I don't want to call the nurse down here to collect her. She probably just fell asleep in the shower or on the toilet or something, she should of gone back to sleep like I told her earlier. Given no other option, I press the button that alerts the nurses and doctors for assistance and moments later they arrive, shots in pockets, brows furrowed in concern.

They push past me like they already know what I need, opening the bathroom door and removing me from the room. I peek past what supposedly is the "head doctor" and instantly regret my decision. I'm not so worried about the fact that I just saw my best friend's boobs or the fact that she was completely naked or anything, it's just she was hanging by her neck, her lovely eyes staring blankly at me, water dripping off of her toes and fingertips and splashing onto the floor.

I feel myself fall to my knees and a broken sob claws it's way out of my throat. I don't protest as I'm removed from the room and taken to another one, exactly the same layout as Beatrix and I's room, the wallpaper a different shade of sickly yellowish-white. I slump down on the bed and let the tears fall, fall like Bea's water droplets onto the cold bathroom floor.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next few days, I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't want to move, or be touched. I hated everything—myself, the nurses, how Beatrix just left me like that, being awake, being asleep, things touching me, people not giving me attention, all of it. About two and a half days into this, though, the doctors started to worry, which really pissed me off more than anything. The constant reminder of what had happened from everything and everyone around me was making me so angry.

That was, until around twenty minutes ago. I really feel bad about how I was acting, though, since I'm sure that the nurses were mourning for Beatrix themselves, and I was just being so rude to all of them.

Because they didn't want any of the patients to be on their own for too long, I had one of the nurses living in my room. I knew that I would be getting another roommate within the next few weeks, since that's just how things work here, but until then I would be with Jackson. The problem with that, though, was that I couldn't get up at three in the morning without a huge commotion—and after the third time in a week, the people were all getting worried about my insomnia. I was probably clocking about three to five hours a night, which was fine to me, but not for Jackson, or Nurse Plume, who believe that I should be put under for each night.

I looked around at the white room, the brightness of it barely being diminished by the lack of light in the room. I checked the clock, and saw that I would have to get up in around ten minutes. Jackson was already moving around slightly, but wasn't quite up yet. I chose that time to actually take a look at him and examine him.

He wasn't a manly, overly buff guy, but he had a bit of muscle. He had a lean build, though, and was rather tall. He had golden hair that shined in the light and reddish-brown eyes. His voice was low and smooth, and the tones were usually long. It really was quite a nice voice, when I thought about it. He was wearing the same thing as I was—a long sleeve, tight fitting, light blue top, and a matching pair of pants, which fit rather tightly as well. They don't have much give, so that we can't hurt ourselves during the periods of _'no supervision,' _though, everyone was still watched during those times, just not as closely as during the day. The point of them is so that it takes long enough to get off and someone will notice what is happening, but the nurses wear them, too, so that the patients don't think that the nurses are that much above their status. We also had a set outfit for us to wear during the day, which is a soft, cotton white tee, and a pair of white pants that don't even have pockets. The nurses have these, too, just in red.

I looked up as I saw Jackson getting closer to getting up, and I checked the clock. It would be going off in two minutes. I stared at Jacksons face, blankly, waiting for it to do so. I didn't sleep at all last night, and I stared at the wall the entire time instead. Now I stared at the only spot of colour aside from myself in the room. In my honest opinion, I like to zone out while staring at a blank wall more than I like to stare at actual objects, since the objects tend to distract me, but I wanted to see Jackson wake up so I could apologise to him. I had been a complete dick to him, so he deserves at least that from me.

The alarm clock buzzed, and I counted to three in my head before the sound stopped. Then, after counting to two, it started back up, and I once again started to count to three, but before I got there, Jackson pressed his side of it. I reached over and delicately clicked my side of the cock, as well. I avoided looking at the lamp that was set on the table.

"Hey, Jackson. Did you sleep well?" I said, and I could hear how horse my voice was from the lack of use from the past few days. He looked out of bed, smiling slightly, though I could tell he didn't want to leave the warmth of the bed. I could relate to the feeling, remembering it from years before. He nodded, slowly pulling himself up and setting his feet on the ground.

"Yeah, I guess I did. You?" He said, carefully. Now that I think about it, this is the first time that he's heard me talk—unless you count when I said "fuck off you motherfucking arse."

"Yeah, I slept alright. I'm sorry for being suck a total and complete dick to you for the past couple of days, though. That was uncalled for and out of line." He looked slightly shocked for a second, before another smile broke out across his face (as opposed to my face, where the only thing that had broken out was acne).

"It isn't a problem, Dan; it is an understandable, and rather expectable, response. I would've been the same way." He replied, and I smiled, sitting up and stretching.

I shot him a smile, and then quickly said "I call dibs on the first shower!" before grabbing my clothes and sprinting to the bathroom. I could hear Jackson laugh from his bed at my actions.


	3. Chapter 3

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!"

I thrashed about the small room as gloved hands grabbed at me. I didn't have any weapons to fight back with, but my nails were the next best thing- even if they were bitten to bloody stumps. I felt my arms and legs being pinned down and a sharp pain enter my neck.

I wasn't afraid of the darkness. You get used to it, after a while. Most of the time it's pretty horrifying, but it's always better than reality. It's almost addictive- sometimes I would purposely fight back just to get a dose of the drug.

My name's Phil. Apparently I'm too "mentally unstable and unfit to live without the aid of medical professionals." One time I tried to kill myself. I have really bad social anxiety and can pass out in a crowd of more than three or four. Sometimes I hallucinate. I can clearly remember the very first day I started seeing things- I was thirteen years old and in the shower. A really weird purple mist started coming in through the showerhead. A few days after I pictured my Math teacher get run over by a truck.

Most of the time the hallucinations are really graphic and bloody- like Saw or something, but then again sometimes you get something really weird, like the purple mist or just the strange things you start imaging as you're falling asleep.

When I woke up I could tell I was in a new room, a new section of the building I was in before. I don't know how I knew, but somehow I did. I sat up on the bed I had been placed in and rubbed my eyes. The room wasn't very nice- the only bits of furniture was the bed that I was sitting on and a clock that hung over the door across the room from me.

The room must have some type or camera or something because about ten minutes after I woke up a nurse came in with a tray of food in her hands. She set the tray on my lap and stood in the corner in case I tried to gouge out my eyes with the spoon I had been issued. I scooped up the scrambled eggs gratefully and nibbled on the ends or the slightly overcooked toast.

"How long was I out?"

"About ten hours."

Wow. Ten hours, they must've given me a really strong dose of whatever was in that medicine, normally I only get about fifteen minutes, or in some cases several hours of the sedative.

The nurse took my tray from me and placed it outside of the room, then came back in and stood closely to the door. "Phil, the doctors have been talking about you and feel that you're not getting any better, so they've issued you a roommate. His name is Dan and you'll be meeting him in a little bit. Meeting new people will help you work on your social interaction and people skills and hopefully you'll make new friends." She left the room and I heard the click of the lock before she made her way down the hall.

I flopped back on the bed in a daze- I've never had I roommate before. Well I did when I was about fourteen, but I was so nervous around him that I started crying and ran out of the room and when I was forced to actually talk to him I ended up punching him in the face.

I've never really had a friend before either. Before I was in the hospital I must've had kids who I played with, but I don't really remember.

_Oh well, may as well take a nap to pass time_, I thought to myself as I snuggled under the thin blankets and tried drifting off,my mind buzzing with the thoughts of my new roommate.

* * *

"Phil, you have to wake up now."

Two nurses took me by the shoulders and I felt a presence behind me, probably a doctor with a needle in case I started seeing things or going crazy. They escorted me down the halls to where the other patients were kept. Before I even knew what was happening I was sat down at a table and looking into the brown eyes of a boy who was probably no older than I was.

I felt my hands grow sweaty and begin to tremble. I tried to steady myself so the nurses wouldn't notice by digging my bitten nails into my palms. I was probably shaking all over- I was so nervous. Luckily no one noticed but the browned eyed boy who didn't seem too worried- but then again I'm no good at reading emotions.

"Phil, this is Dan."

"Hi." said the brown eyed boy, giving me a small wave of his hand.

"Dan, this is Phil."

"H-h-hi."

Dan gave me a small reassuring smile that didn't make me feel less nervous.

"You're going to be sharing a room, seeing as Dan doesn't have one and Phil ned one. You will learn social interaction skills as you live together and hopefully cope with your illnesses as well," said the doctor "Jackson will oversee your well being daily, as well as bringing you meals until you are both fit enough to join the other patients in the dining hall."

I felt my heartbeat increase and my body begin to tense up again. No matter what I did now, I would have to live with Dan. I didn't have anything against him, I just am physically unable to do this.

The walls started to come closer and blood started coming out of my palms. I felt like I was going to be sick. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." I fell over in the chair as my vision started going black around the edges. The last thing I was before falling unconscious was Dan standing up in his chair with a worried and pleading look on his face. I wanted to tell him that this was normal and to not be afraid, but when I tried opening my mouth, nothing came up but red, sticky blood.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil and I would be spending practically 24/7 together for however long we were roommates—so, until one of us are better, or one of us gives out and kill ourselves. I know that that is a blunt and rude way to put it, but that's how it works in Section 38. There's no point in sugar-coating it.

Phil's first day was really awkward, and we said nearly nothing all day and night. I could tell that he didn't sleep either, and at one point (which might've been at 3 or 5 or 10 or whenever, since my internal clock is just so utterly off that I wouldn't know) I looked over at him and started for a bit. He was already staring at me, and we just looked at each other for a bit. It was… I don't even know how to explain it. It was surreal, but there was this tension about it at first. After the initial shock of just looking into each other's eyes for a bit, we got over it and it was all serene. We could feel the breathing of one another, and we knew that there was something _there._ It wasn't something that I could explain, but the way that I could hear how alive he was and the relaxation that gave me was something that I never really got with Beatrix—she was always sleeping, and went to bed early a lot. She also slept in a lot of the time.

The next day, when Phil and I both got up from a sleepless night, I had an idea. It wasn't really an idea that was practical, nor would it work for very long, but it would be a start.

"Phil, I have an idea so that we can have epic conversations—if you want to I mean but if you don't that's understandable and I believe that you should have the option to do anything you want to please feel free to say no to anything I say." I said, starting off rather confidently, but then I realised that I was being completely rude and I backed off and rushed my words together, gaining speed until I finally ended my sentence. I looked down at my hands, trying to hide how bright red my face was without being too inconspicuous.

He looked at me and nodded shyly, a gesture that I hoped meant I should go on (how should I know, like, how often to I talk to other people? Beatrix usually said what was up and I don't even know how to read someone's actions and—I just don't know so this is all guess-work for me).

"Well, since we have, uh, problems talking with people face-to-face, we could like, uh, sit and—god, this is going to sound stupid, sorry—pass notes? Like, the way that girls did in Secondary School, where they'd talk about boys and stuff, but we could talk about normal stuff—though, if you wanna talk about boys then that's cool, too, because I'm cool with that and if you swing that way that's cool because—" I shook my head, trying to keep myself on track and not say something stupid—passing notes would make it so that I could think before I say anything, rather than rushing everything I say out all at once. He nodded, still shy, and there was a small, very faint, smile that followed. I looked around for a pen and paper, and found a pen connected to a chain on the desk, and when I took it out of the holder a small green light ignited. I found paper in the third drawer down of the nightstand, and I could feel us being watched more than we had been previously (if possible).

I took the paper and wrote '_Hey, how are you?'_ on it, handing it to Phil. He tried to write, but turned bright red. I looked away so that he could write what he wanted, and a few seconds later he handed me the paper, written in his hand writing '_I'm doing well, and you?'_

I smiled at the note, responding with '_I'm doing great now that we can talk.'_

'_This was actually a pretty good idea. Good job :)' _

I just adored his cute little hand writing as I read what he had written. _'Why thank you! ^-^ So… what do you wanna talk about?'_

'_Hm… how about some simple questions? What's your favourite colour?'_

'_Oh, tough question you have there! I would have to say… green. It's very unique—did you know that mirrors are actually green?' _I smiled at the little fun fact that he included in there, it was adorable.


	5. Chapter 5

_'I'm a little bit tired, I think I'm going to go to sleep now, Phil. Night.'_

I nod in Dan's direction and he does the same in reply, then rolls over, pulling his blanket over his head. Several slips of paper fall onto the ground as he does so, silently gliding through the air until noiselessly hitting the floor.

I don't sleep often. Like, I have before, but I normally don't unless I'm drugged or something, but if I'm really tired I'll kind of close my eyes and let my mind wander, but I'm not completely oblivious to what's happening around me. Sometime I can nap, but that is in no way close to getting actual sleep, it's much too light to regain energy and it always ends up in my getting a headache.

The clock to my side reads 3:47 and I sigh, wishing that Dan could be awake. I would have to sit here for three or four hours until everyone was required to wake up. There wasn't much I could do to pass time either, I could only sit here alone with my thoughts.

I would probably kill someone for some kind of sleeping pill or sedative right now, there was no way in god's name that I was going to sit here for another couple of hours. It's not like there were televisions or any kind of music in the patient's rooms, but if I get well enough I may be able to use the recreational room where patients can watch TV or play games or something. I've obviously never been, but I remember someone talking about it on my first day here, and I may have been dragged past it a few times.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press my cold fingertips to my lids, hoping to drift off in one way or another. When that doesn't work I end up curling into a ball and cocooning myself in blankets.

* * *

7:15, finally. I throw my legs over the side of my bed, grab some clothes out of the shared drawers and open the bathroom door, wrinkling my nose at how cold it was. Normally the bathrooms I had been issued were very small and warm.

The water in the shower is also very cold, almost forcing me to hurry up and get out so that the next person could use it. I dry myself off, toss the towel down the laundry chute and look at myself in the mirror.

I look like crap.

My eyes aren't nearly as blue as they were before. I had always been proud of my apparently 'steely blue eyes', but nowadays they had lost their hue. They were almost gray. Drab grey like a newspaper. I would literally be like a newspaper with my issued white clothing and black hair.

Dan was leaning against the wall as I came out of the bathroom, nibbling on the skin around his nails. I looked into his eyes, then quickly looked away. Out of the corner of my eye I swear I saw him smile, but it was probably nothing. I sat down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling as I listened to the water run.

Outside of the room I heard someone beeping a keypad and I nearly jumped out of my skin as a blonde haired guy entered our room.

"Hello!" He said in a friendly voice. I sneaked a glance at him, then quickly look back down at the floor. "You must be Phil. I'm Jackson. I'm going to be taking care of you for a little bit, is that okay?"

I gave a slight nod, still not looking up. He rolled a cart into the room, carefully selected three trays, handed one to me, then set one of the other ones on Dan's bed, then sat down on a small metal chair. Dan had just exited the bathroom as Jackson sat down, small drops of water dripping from his hair.

"Good morning Dan, I hope you slept well?"

"Yeah I did, thanks."

"And you Phil?"

I nodded yet again, even though I didn't mean it. I was still really tired, seeing as the only bit of sleep I had gotten in almost a week was from yesterday was when I was napping whilst waiting to meet Dan, not including sedatives.

Jackson and Dan peeled back the plastic from their trays and I did the same, wrinkling my nose as a cloud of steam hit me in the face. Jackson handed Dan and I plastic spoons and I felt like I was back in school, eating with a group of people who I guess were now my apparent friends, although I hadn't physically spoken to either of them.

The food on the tray was overcooked and tasted like mush mixed with chunks of cardboard, so after a few bites I pushed it away. when they were both done eating, Jackson took all of our trays, promised to be back in time for lunch and then wheeled his cart away, no doubt off to help the other patients of Section 38.

Dan and I sat awkwardly on our beds, not knowing what to say to one another until I heard the scratching of a pencil and the crumble of paper. Within seconds, a ball of wadded up paper appeared on my lap, the pencil following shortly afterwards. I tentatively opened it, purposely taking great care to smooth out the crumbles in the sheet of paper that read _'Still want to talk like this, or do you want to talk for real?'_


	6. Chapter 6

Do I want to actually talk to him, or do I want to continue the way we have been? Which one should I do? It is obvious which one would be saver and provide actual communication, but the other option gave the building blocks of an actual friendship—oh, wow, the thought alone was scary. I mean, in case you haven't noticed, my social skills aren't the best, and talking seems like a horrible idea to me, but then again, I will have to talk eventually. If not now, then soon.

Okay, well, to use in putting it off anymore… I might as well try, if not a conversation, but at least a couple words or so.

"I, uh, we—well, I… Hi." I choked out, the idea of actually talking becoming worse and worse as I tried to get a coherent sentence—I _could_ talk, but I wasn't one for talking to _people_. Not since I had made my attempt, and even beforehand I hadn't been so keen on making contact with others. I just wasn't a very social person.

He was one of the first people I had willingly talked to in a long while. I didn't want to ruin it by… well, talking. He smiled, nodding, and responded carefully, each of his words mapped out so that I wouldn't freak out too much. I was torn between being embarrassed and being a bit grateful about this. "Hey, Phil, how are you holding up?"

I held my breath before I replied, and in the end, rather than saying anything, I shrugged and nodded. He smiled, nodding understandingly, while I tried to calm down, and I added, "Sorry, yeah, really sorry, but, uh, how are you? I'm sorry."

"Trust me, it's perfectly fine, Phil, you're doing amazing and your voice actually sounds pretty nice. I'm doing well, and I'm glad that you are." He said, smiling light-heartedly. The smile itself made my heart flutter, and I tried the best to choke out a response, not wanting to seem like an idiot. Dan was being so nice—the least I could do was _reply_ to him.

"Thank you, so much. I'm so glad that you're my roommate—I'm sorry, but I just mean you're so nice, and you're really—" I cut myself off, looking down at my hands, not wanting to finish the thought—_Stupid Phil! You'd freak him out, 'or, yeah, you're really cute!' What the hell?! This is why you shouldn't talk!_' "I mean, yeah, you're really cool and—and uh, yeah…" I said, trying to calm myself down. Gosh, I couldn't believe I was being such a freak!

"I'm _what_, exactly, Phil?" He asked, looking at me, and I could tell that something about him had changed. It scared me, and I could feel my breathing speed up. I knew that I was on the verge of a panic attack, and I didn't have anything stopping me.

"I just mean—I'm sorry, I just, I—"

"Answer the question, Phil," Dan said, capturing my stare. We shared a long look, and my shaky breath stopped for a moment. This wasn't the same Dan that was being kind and encouraging, this one was different. And he was scaring me.

"I…"

"Fine, then. Don't answer me. I guess I just won't answer you, then." He said, coldly, and he turned around with his pencil and paper and started to draw, completely ignoring me. I was left floundering, trying to find something—anything—to say that would make him turn around and at least consider forgiving me, but I was left blank. It seemed that I had thoroughly pissed him off, and I felt so bad.

Biting my lip, I tried to focus on my breathing, realising that I hadn't been doing much of that since Dan had given me that look of such genuine hatred, and I found that I could barely do it. Every breath was laboured, and I noticed that the room was spinning slight. I rubbed my hands together nervously, realising that my fingers were feeling dizzy. Feeling horrible, I curled up into a ball, and I felt like I was being stabbed from the inside. Trying to avoid any thought or the sight of Dan, I clenched my eyes closed as tightly as I could and just sat there curled up into my ball. The reaction to what Dan had said covered my entire body, tensing it, and it reminded me of what I did last time I felt like this. I couldn't believe myself, getting attached and trusting someone so close—I should've know that they would hate me! They always do, it's nearly impossible not to hate me. I should be dead—I _deserve_ to be dead, that's all I've earned in my lifetime. It's all that I can ever really earn.

..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. -. / ..-. .-.. .- ... ... -... .- -.-. -.- / -... .. - -.-. ... . .../ . .- - / - -.- / .-. . -. .. ... (**FLASHBACK**)

You know, I've begun to realise that it's possible that everyone hates me as much as I hate myself. Like, for a while I thought that this was just _impossible_, but over time I think that I've realised most people probably _do_ hate me as much as I do. I didn't really think it was possible until now.

Whenever I talk to a teacher, they always try and belittle me. I know it seems like a childish, selfish statement, but that's how it is. If I raise my hand, they roll their eyes and pick me, but when they hear what I have to say, they devour it and make it seem so utterly stupid that I can just barely even think straight. I always feel so bad about what I say and wish I hadn't asked my question or added such into the debate. I never have been much of a leader or one to inspire the sparks in the conversation, but it wasn't until a bit more recently that I realised that I was pushing down and stomping out the sparks that I had let the others provide. So, I slowly retracted and stopped trying to add my own water to the fire.

I noticed how unwanted I was amongst my friends, too. I was there, and no one _rejected_ me, but no one really liked me, either. I could go an entire lunch period without saying a single word to any of the people within the group and no one would say anything about it. It wasn't hard to disappear—no one would notice. I was alone in this stupid little school.

When it came to family, it was an entirely different story. I was pretty much hated—I had a nice and full family, but it was one that I wasn't fully a part of. I had two older brothers, and I was the youngest, but my oldest brother (Stephan) wasn't living with us anymore. He had moved away after university and got married to Sammie when I was around six, since he's sixteen years older me. There was also Andre, who's four years older than me. He's about to finish his high school career, and afterwards he'll move out and go to college. We used to get along really well, but we don't anymore. He hates me, now that I think about it. Like, he puts up with me because we're related, but he doesn't actually care about me, and is much closer to hating me than loving me. He wouldn't really care if I died.

Then there are my parents—my father isn't one to worry about, he _hates_ me more than life. He loved both of my brothers, but when it comes to me he hates me. I _am_ the fuck up of the family, but the way he treats me, it hurts. I don't even react to it anymore, and he thinks that I am over it, but really I'm not over it at all, I'm just so used to it hurting that it just doesn't even affect me anymore.

My mother is a completely different story—she has always loved me, but not anymore. Now that I am depressed at not her happy little boy who always smiles she hates me. I can't do anything about it because it is my fault that I am like this, but the fact that she doesn't like me anymore also hurts. I used to be her little boy and play with her, but now I'm not because I'm just a depressed emo fag. So, I don't think she would quite mind it if I were to be gone, and if she actually did it wouldn't be too long before she got over it.

I'm sure you can guess what I'm getting at when I say that I'm liked by no one—after all, when you leave somewhere, the biggest thing that holds you back is the company—and if you don't then I'll just tell you. Suicide. Honestly, the only thing that I can get that I won't get yelled at for, and only because I won't survive to even get ridiculed for it. So, I decided it had to be done—whether it'd be here and now with a razor or a bottle of pills, or tomorrow on a bridge of a tall building, or any other form or time. It just had to happen, and it had to happen soon. So that I could be relieved and so that everyone around me wouldn't have to bear the burden that is me. It was such a better idea that me staying alive, it wasn't even funny.


	7. Chapter 7

**Finally, here we are, sorry for the wait~ ^-^**

**Dan's POV **

I woke up while still being rather tired, surprised that I actually slept at all—and looking over I saw that I had slept a lot. I had managed to sleep for six hours, more or less, which is probably the most I've naturally slept in almost a year, which was kind of cool, I guess. Honestly, it didn't really matter to me, I mean, what was really the point of caring about it? I mean, yeah, you could care about what was happening, but when it comes right down to it we are all just little specks that fly around on a piece of space dust, which circles around a little ball of fire. Besides, we're all going to die sooner than we think and there is nothing that can stop that, so why bother?

Looking over, I saw that Phil was curled up in a ball on his bed. I didn't know if he was awake yet, and I didn't really know if I wanted to know. I mean, he was cool and everything, but in the end we were all going to die, and with my luck he would die soon, so I didn't want to bother and get attached to him when he would probably die within a couple weeks. It was just pointless.

I couldn't tell if he was awake or not, so I decided to just throw something small at him to see—I threw a pen cap at him, and I just saw him curl up into a tighter ball. That meant that he was awake but did not have the confidence to talk to me—which was fine with me, I didn't have to talk to anyone and he didn't have to talk to me. We didn't really need to be friends, and we didn't need to talk to not be friends, so talking would be pointless—everything would be pointless! I do not understand how someone could possibly care about such simple things, when nothing really matter and our entire universe would just be thrown into oblivion and nothing we do will ever add up and amount to anything.

But… then again, Phil was beautiful—and not like, he is pretty and nice looking, no, he is _beautiful._ He's that person that when you look at him you have to stop and stare for a moment because of just how wonderful he looked.

Like, when you first see him he looks like an attractive you man, but then when you really _see_ him you realise that he is probably one of the most beautiful people this world has ever seen. With most people, if you observe them a bit more after you meet them you realise that they aren't all that beautiful, but with Phil, no matter how long you stared he was still beautiful—possibly getting more beautiful the longer you stare and look. His jet-black hair was an amazing wonder to me, because it looked to natural, and it complimented his pale skin so well it was almost impossible. But he couldn't just stop there when it came to the compliments of his colour pallet—he also had the most beautiful blue eyes that I had ever seen, and I hadn't even been able to look into them very deeply, but I knew that they were the brightest blue I had ever seen.

Now, that's just the basics of his being. Getting into more detail, if you looked at the curve of his jawline, it was just bliss. It wasn't overly muscular, and it didn't scare me away, but he wasn't chubby or anything, and it was beautiful—and his cheekbones were just something else. I'm pretty sure he was breaking some law by having them be so amazing. And his adorable little nose and his perfect eyebrows, and how he was tall and lean and slightly muscular without being awkward or scary—he was perfect. He is my definition of perfection, and there was nothing to change that!

I decided to talk to him, and I hoped I wouldn't come off as too weird, but…

"Phil… hey, dude, cutie pa-too-tie, bonito, beautiful human, hey! Psht, over here, bro, look, I'm sorry for overreacting earlier, I really am! Hey, please just bless me the honour of seeing your face or something? I don't think I could love anything more than seeing a smile grace your lips, dude, hey, listen up, I will resort to the worst crime! Yes, that's right; I will tickle you if you don't respond, hey, Phil! Phiiiiiiiil! Come on, I know you're not asleep, dude, just, c'mon, man, broskie, hey, tacos, dude, can you just—fine, okay, I'm going to do it, I'll tickle you!"

So, I went up behind him and carefully started to tickly Phil—putting as much art into as I could. The reaction was immediate, and he let out a small yelp before going into the normal tickle-spasms. He looked up at me, and his face was as red as a tomato. I just wanted to hug him to death—so, I did engulf him in a huge hug. I hoped he didn't mind.

When I released him, I just said, "I hope you don't mind that, it's just that you're so freaking adorable that I had to." He just nodded and blushed ever brighter.

"Okay, so, what do you say, can you forgive me? I'm sorry for exploding like that yesterday…"

"F-forgive _you? _I'm the one that should be asking for forgiveness!" He said immediately, and then quickly covered his face with his hands, muttering a small apology. I smiled, shaking my head at the adorable little bunny that was Phil.

"Well, if that's how you see it, then all is forgiven and we can be friends, right? Let's go down that road, then—oh, breakfast should be here any second! Pancakes, my favourite!" I said, with a huge smile, and Phil looked up and silently nodded.

"What, cat got your tongue? Shame, I wanted to use that for myself later." I said with a suggestive wink, and he turned a brighter red and closed his eyes adorable. I laughed and tousled his hair, and as predicted, Jackson walked in with our food.


	8. Chapter 8

**I am aware that this is short. Sorry. Also if you find Looking For Alaska reference, you're pretty awesome.**

After Jackson left I buried my face into my pillow. Dan was acting weird- I liked it, but it was still weird, nonetheless. I guess I wasn't used to people showing affection towards me. I could hear Dan shuffling about the room and getting closer to me. My body tensed up as it always did when people came too close to me.

"Hey, are you sleeping?"

"Yeah."

Dan laughed and said "You're sooo cute!"

The bed sank down a teensy bit as Dan sat down next to me. I peeked out from under my pillow and saw him looking at the back of my hand.

I muttered out a small "Hi," and I secretly wondered if it was even audible.

"Hey. How are you?"

I nodded and pulled my knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms around myself. I really wanted to talk, but even one word sentences felt alien.

"So..."

"Hhm?"

"So, what's your story?"

I thought about his question. What was my story? Everyone here already knows that this place is designed for people who are mentally unstable, ages ten through twenty five, and have attempted to commit suicide. Why would he even want to hear my story? It's not a pretty one, but I guess it's still a story. I pushed my hands under my pillow to cover up the two slender scars on my wrists- one of about four attempts to escape the labyrinth.

I remembered something from what seemed like a million years ago; a picture of an emaciated girl with tattoos and scars alike, and a quote that said "scars are just tattoos with better stories"

"Dunno."

"Oh."

"You?"

"Uh, I have bipolar disorder which you may have already guessed. My dad's an alcoholic, and I guess he abused my mom. I tried to kill myself three times. My old roommate killed herself, and I guess my new roommate is very quiet, very cute and seems very sad."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault, you don't have to apologize."

"Sorry."

Dan laughed and I felt the corners of my mouth twist into something that felt like a grimace, but must've looked like a smile. "You're so adorable."

"You too."

Dan blushed beet red, and I felt blood rush to my face too. Why did I say that? God he'll never talk to me again, shit, shit, shit, what can I say to cover up? I could hear a dull thumping in the back on my head and I felt like I was about to throw up. I squeezed my eyes closed and then-

Dan pressed his lips into mine and my body went blank for a moment. My heart stopped beating and everything was frozen in time. I could feel Dan's hand on the back of my head, his fingers were twisting locks of my hair and his other hand had somehow crept onto the small of my back. My hands were wrapped tightly around his neck, and what once was a small and innocent kiss had turned into a full on body-grinding mess.

A small voice from the back of my head cried _"Oh shit, bro! The cameras!" _But I ignored it. All the little voices that tittered around head were muffled by the creak of bedsprings, gasps of air, and the occasional moan.

"Dan?"

"Hmm?"

"You're perfect."


	9. Chapter 9

Dan and I soon started to battle for dominance in a hot tangle of our bodies, and for once I wasn't scared of crossing any lines, and I didn't think about the consequences. It was probably the worst time to forget about consequences, because this is probably the only action that I've taken a chance on that _would _have consequences, but still.

As things heated up, I started to become more and more aware of the fact that we were being watched by the cameras, and I knew that this wouldn't be going on for much longer. As predicted, one of the nurses came in and grabbed Dan away.

Dan frowned as he was pulled away from me, and Jackson came in to take him away. The nurse—Nurse Plume—sighed and looked me over, and I knew that she was looking for a way to tell me that what I had done was unacceptable and that I was too horrible for this place—that I was too horrible for a _mental hospital_.

"I'm really sorry, love, but I have to tell you about Dan—he's never done anything like this, but I need to tell you about his condition. He has bi-polar disorder, and sometimes that includes increased sex-drive and such. So, he may very well change what he's like in the time of a second. So, don't be surprised, I'm sure that he really likes you, but… well, you know, he's not like other boys." She said gently, fixing my hair. I bit my lip and nodded, but I could feel my heart collapsing.

_He would only love you if he had a mental disorder, normal boys wouldn't like you. He likes you because there's something wrong with him, but really he hates you. He loathes every bit of you; no one could ever love you, what the hell is with you just stop trying. _

"Oh, Phillip," I was used to the fact that strangers knew my name, so I didn't pay attention to that, "don't feel bad, cheer up! I am very sure that Dan likes you a lot, but with what he has his feelings get distorted a lot, as well. It isn't like they come up out of nowhere, they are just multiplied to proportions that aren't healthy—like, if you say something that would annoy someone just a bit, then it will push Dan into a full-on tantrum. Also, if Dan has a small crush on someone, it gets made in his mind so that he will more or less force himself onto them. So don't worry, love, you guys will get a steady relationship going soon, but I believe that things would be better if you guys just stayed friends for now, right?" She said, smiling. I liked her, and the way that she explained things. She had a slight accent—one from the Pacific Islands if I had to place it—and her voice was soft and steady and made my slightly sleep.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, looking at her full-on for the first time. She had brownish-red hair and a bright smile. She was beautiful, but not in the way that you'd look at a girl your age. She was like… a mother. She had that kind of warmth, like she would take you in and teach you what to do and how to live, and she would hug you when you were sad or when you had a bad dream. She sat down next to me and cautiously engulfed me in a hug, into which I melted. She smelt of dark chocolate, raspberries, and honey.

Thinking about it now, it seemed like it was in the job requirement to have a nice voice, because the only nurses we had contact with were our primary nurse—Jackson—and our secondary nurse—Plume. They both had smooth, comforting voices that I would love to listen to for hours. Maybe they just walked into an audiobook recording place and hired all of their nurses there.

"I'm sorry about that Phil, and sorry Nurse Jackson and Nurse Plume for not telling you that I prefer penis in general, and I am sorry that I acted on the fact that Philip Lester is the love of my life and he is perfect and I should have asked him first and I definitely won't ask him if he is my boyfriend the moment you leave," Dan said, in the sassiest tone I had ever heard in my life. "As a matter of fact, I'll '_discreetly_' ask him now, if he doesn't mind. But I have to do it properly, so…" Dan looked at me, straightened his uniform apparel as if it were a tuxedo, and bow towards me, saying, "Philip M. Lester, I know our time so far has been short, but in my eyes it has lasted years and I would like to know if you would be my dearly beloved boyfriend and go steady with me."

"Dan, what did we just talk about? It is okay to like him but do not act in a way that you wouldn't act at any other time, Dan would you mind going to the hall again with me?"

"Yes, I would mind, very much and I would rather not go, please and thank you." He said, and winked at me before going over and plopping onto the bed. Then he turned so he was in a suggestive pose that looked fitting for one of those sexy calendars, and beckoned me over, laughing slightly. Jackson took a deep, and before anyone else got anything out, Nurse Plume burst out laughing. Almost immediately she covered her mouth and turned a bright shade of red, and then, without even wanting to, I followed suit. All of the tension left the moment and everyone just started laughing their butts off, and for a moment everything was forgotten—from the kiss to what's wrong with Dan and I to the fact that Plume and Jackson had matching rings.

It was all too soon that I found that the moment ended and we were all just standing in our room. After a moment, Plume left, and Jackson gave a pointed look at Dan and said, "I'll be keeping a closer eye on you guys for a bit," before leaving, as well. Dan looked at me, then immediately turned bright red and looked away.

"Um, shit, sorry Phil, um, yeah, Jackson was right, that was out of line and I just like, I can't believe myself, I just like, I didn't think and I just like, um, I am so sorry, I just like—" I cut him off before he stressed himself out too much more.

"It's fine—it wasn't even a bad thing." I said, and took a deep breath. Things were going to be okay here. That was a good thing.


	10. Chapter 10

_-Jackson's POV in case you were wondering-_

"You know they can't keep being roommates."

"I know, you just worry about Phil, you know? You've heard about his background and you also know he's probably never had friends, nonetheless a boyfriend!"

Nurse Plume tipped out remains of a patient's lunch into the trash can and wiped her hands on her scrubs. "As much as I want them to be together, we both know that the head doctors are going to say something eventually." She handed the tray to me and I plunged it in the soapy water. The suds covered my arms and the water burned my hands, but I continued to remove the grime.

"Do you remember how Dan was with Beatrix?" I asked "He'd go insane. He's already so attached to Phil, more so than he was with Bea, and after she took her own life we literally had to force feed him, he wouldn't talk to anyone unless it was to swear at them, and the only way you could get him to sleep was to give him sleeping meds!"

"Well I'm not going to break the news to him. He'd probably punch me in the face, and sure as anything you're not going to either."

I knew I shouldn't have favorites, but upon meeting Dan, he had quickly latched himself into my heart. I felt so bad for him when Beatrix died, how angry he was at the world and himself. He was such a nice kid, so smart and witty. I loved him like a little brother or a nephew or something.

And Phil. Poor, sweet, innocent Phil. His heart would be shattered if anyone took Dan from him.

"It's just not appropriate! We can't have two underage patients with severe mental diseases kissing or having sex in a ward!" I said in a loud voice, throwing the tray into the sink, spattering both myself and Nurse Plume with suds and hot water that reeked of heavily of bleach and flowers.

"But look at them," Nurse Plume said, gesturing to Dan and Phil's camera "They _really_ love each other!"

I looked at the camera. They were both in Dan's bed, Dan with his back to the wall and Phil wrapped in his arms. Their fingers were entwined and their legs were tangled together in a knot of blankets. In the black and white camera I could see them touching lips ever so slightly for a few seconds then go back to their original positions.

I reached my hand out to push the button that called in doctors' assistance, but Nurse Plume gently pushed my hand away. "Shh, let them have this moment."

"Fine."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

I was sure Phil could feel the tickle of my breath on his ear. Just to make sure I let out a long breath through my nose and, sure enough, goosebumps appeared on the side of his cheek.

In mess of limbs and blankets I could feel him shiver every time our skin came in contact with each other, and every time this happened I would push my face into the back of his neck and smile. It felt strange to smile, as it had been such a long time since anyone or anything had made me happy, but even so, I liked the feeling of smiling.

My hands slowly crept up him back and around his shoulders and I could feel him tense up beside me, then slowly relax as I gave him a comforting squeeze. The sounds of our breathing was the only thing that I could hear in the room besides the ever so faint sound of bed springs creaking.

Somehow our silence said more things than words ever could and I let the serenity engulf me, letting it clear my mind and numb out negative emotions.

More than anything I wanted to get out of this place. Not necessarily the room, but I wanted to take Phil with me and simply walk out. I wanted to go on dates to the movie theater and see free plays run by elementary school children and go to amusement parks and hold hands with Phil, ride roller coasters until we're too dizzy to stand, then sit on a bench, holding hands. If I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about it hard enough I could almost hear the faint sounds of delighted squeals and feel the wind blowing on my face.

Thinking about carnivals and Phil made me nolgastic for the future, so I buried my face into Phil's back and held back tears. It was stupid, _I_ was stupid, for missing something that would never happen. Anger bubbled like a volcano in my stomach and I ripped a bit of skin from the inside of my cheek.

"Hey Dan?"

My fury ceased at once as Phil's whisper rang out like a bell in the room. "Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah, anything,"

"I love you so much."

"I love you more."

"Doubted."


	11. Chapter 11

**This is short because school is back in and work. **

I looked up at Dan, smiling at his sleeping figure. _This shouldn't be happening, but I hope it lasts. _ This was the happiest I had been for a while—for as long as I could remember. Dan was holding my close and our breath was in sync and I felt _wanted_. I felt like there was someone who wanted me to be here, and I felt loved and I was happy. I loved him, he loved me, and that's how things just were. No strings, no complications, nothing added onto it, just the fact that we loved each other.

I wanted that moment to last for forever. Where I was laying in the arms of the sleeping boy that I loved and I listened to him breath, and I felt loved. I didn't want things to end and I didn't want to have to go back into the world and face it. Dan was like… an escape. He made things calm, and it felt so calm. I had never really felt that kind of calm before. I had always been really shy, and I didn't touch people really, or talk to them seriously, and rather than growing out of it things started to get worse as I got older. My parents didn't really notice, and things were getting worse and worse in my head, but now they aren't _bad_. They are pretty close to good right now, with Dan and such, other than the fact that I'm in a mental hospital. Things were looking up, though.

I looked in his eyes, and he looked in mine. Moving my hair away from my forehead, he whispered to me, tickling my ear, "you have _really_ blue eyes. Like—blue-blue-blue."

"Like, the bluest blue to ever blue? You sound like you're from a fan fiction written by teenagers," I replied, and we chuckled softly until we faded into the soft silence again. He drew tender circles on my stomach with his thumb.

Dan and I both looked up when we heard a light knock on the door, and we saw Jackson and Nurse Plume at the door.

After that everything blurred together. They said that Dan and I couldn't be roommates with a relationship going on. Dan exploded. I was standing off to the side with Plume behind me, stroking my back tentatively. Jackson was carefully trying to get to Dan. Dan was yelling. He grabbed at things to throw at Jackson. The lamp was one. Papers. Our pen. A couple of pillows, then finally, he managed to pick up the small mattress and throw it. He missed terribly and managed to hit me with it. It didn't hurt but it was a shock and managed to knock me over. Then he was around me and crying. Jackson was holding him. Plume was holding me. Dan was apologising over and over again, and I was apologising too, because I didn't want him to apologise. He didn't do anything, it was an accident.

"Phil, they're right, I have to go, I am dangerous! To you, to me, I have to get out of here! I don't want to hurt you, okay? Just… let me. I'll… we can… when I'm better it will… Phil…" I looked in his eyes. I pulled him close and kissed his forehead, shaking my head and whispering. I didn't really think I could get much more out, so I was whispering to him.

"No, no, no, no, Dan, no…"

Then he was taken away. Plume said that Dan would be back to get his stuff later, but things weren't right at that moment, and they needed to sort things out a couple of things. I said I didn't care. She said she would be close. I said ok. Then I was alone in my room. It used to be our room, I guess, but it was my room now. And I was alone. I didn't know what to think, so I didn't, I just waited for things to settle in my mind while I lay back on the bed that still had its mattress intact. I didn't know what I could do.

**Dan's POV**

I couldn't believe myself. I hadn't exploded like that on anyone else—I had indeed gotta angry, but I _hit Phil with a mattress_ and I knocked him over. I couldn't believe myself.

I started to think for a bit. I reviewed the things that I had done with Phil, and I thought about what he had told me about him. He had adumbrated a bit of his life, but I didn't know much. We hadn't known each other, so I didn't expect to learn much about him.

Then my mind started to wander to Beatrix. I remembered when we had first really opened up to each other, and that's when I finally just broke down crying. I didn't know what else to do without the two of them. I loved them both to death, and now one was dead and the other was hurt because of me. I feel asleep thinking of the day where Beatrix and I opened up, and I didn't stop thinking about it.

_Dan was lying on his bed, and Beatrix was lying across from him. They were blankly looking at each other—they were relatively new roommates. They had only really been together for a couple months, so, needless to say, they didn't know much about each other. _

_Dan finally looked up and broke the silence, saying, "Hey, Beatrix, what's like… your story? If you wanna share then I would be happy to listen to it, if you want." _

_Beatrix looked back at him, hesitant. Things were going well, but she didn't know if she could just share something like that. She sighed, gnawing at her lip as she started. "Well, my, um, my mother and my father never really got on very well. So, you know, they split, and I had to like, you know, choose. Holidays with which and who and what and you know—all of the stuff that no child wants to go through. So, when they were asking my daddy always called me his little girl but I __**wasn't**__ little, and that was always what bothered me. 'Daddy loves his little girl, doesn't he?' 'Oh, come here, my little girl.' _

"_There was also the factor of my mother," she continued, sighing sadly, "she didn't really care either way—I could even just say that I wanted to live with my father permanently and I don't think she would really care. Like, she was starting up a new family, which is why they divorced, and like, she didn't want these… complications. So, I just kind of, I mean, my father would easily find another 'little girl,' and perhaps this one would be little, and my mother wouldn't really care so I gave up. I took the fall, and then when that failed I stopped. I took a break from trying, you could say, and then I ended up here. You?"_

_Dan looked her over, his heart going out to her. She was indeed a very small person—she couldn't weigh more than one hundred pounds, and she was only around four-foot-ten or so despite being over sixteen, and she was tiny. She had hallow cheeks and when it came time to eat her and Jackson had to compromise and such—"if you eat at least this much pasta then I might be able to sneak in some strawberry flavouring into your laundry so that your clothes will smell nice" and such—and Dan could see her ribs sometimes through her shirt. Dan could remember one time when it was visitor's day for Section 38, which happened every three to four months. She had told Jackson that she didn't want to see her mother and hid in the bathroom. Plume had even come out to talk to the mother that she had rejected while Jackson tried to get her out of the bathroom, and Dan had caught a glimpse of the crying woman, with carefully curled hair that was being mangled by her shaking hands and running makeup. Things must have been completely different from Beatrix's point of view, because from what Dan could see, things were quite the opposite. _

_Dan held his hand out, and she grabbed it and held his. Dan took a deep breath, getting ready to explain the details of what had happened in his life to make him end up here—and the nightmares. _


End file.
